


you're just the kind of crazy (I've been looking for)

by blake0tyler



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Body Shots, Chris gets touchy when she's drunk, Everyone ships them, F/F, Idiots in Love, Kelley/Tobin bro-mance, Tequila, Tobin can't cope, and a little bit sexy, idiots to lovers, it's just chaotic and fluffy, low key So'Hara, midnight conversations in a tattoo parlor, there's no real story here, what else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 23:53:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blake0tyler/pseuds/blake0tyler
Summary: The girl stepping into the tattoo parlor at seven minutes to midnight on Friday night is pretty drunk.(Pretty and drunk, Tobin notices—but that’s not the point.)
Relationships: Kelley O'Hara/Emily Sonnett, Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 37
Kudos: 782





	you're just the kind of crazy (I've been looking for)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: 
> 
> This is relatively un-proofread; sorry for any mistakes! Based on the prompt “I’m not allowed to give you a tattoo when you’re drunk. Come back in the morning?” 
> 
> Hope y’all enjoy it! Let me know what you think!

The girl stepping into the tattoo parlor at seven minutes to midnight on Friday night is pretty drunk.

(Pretty _and_ drunk, Tobin notices—but that’s not the point.)

It’s almost closing time when a mess of voices from outside snaps Tobin out of her concentration. She barely manages to put her drawing pad away before they all come tumbling in at once—all five of them, talking over each other, laughing and pushing each other forward.

“—such a stupid idea, Press.”

“Alex, let me go—_Alex_!”

The girl in the front—the one with the long dark curls and the pretty smile—is trying to walk up to the counter, swaying a little too much to be sober. She’s being pulled back by another girl, and Tobin’s already getting to her feet.

“Hi—” she starts, too soft to be heard.

“I’m just saying, this is a very bad—”

“Stop pulling! I can make my own—”

_Oof. _

The pretty girl bumps right into her, nearly knocking both of them against the counter, and all Tobin can really do is grab hold of her waist before she stumbles forward and collapses against the register. It can’t be more than a second before Tobin is already stepping back, but she can feel her cheeks heat up at the way the girl is suddenly _close_, smiling in a way that should not be having this kind of effect on Tobin.

“—oh, hi, there,” the girl says, and _fuck_, she’s really pretty.

Like, _beautiful_.

“Press,” the other girl cuts in. “Stop. You’re—you _can’t _just—we’re not doing this.”

The pretty girl ignores her, looks right at Tobin and says, “Are you in charge here?”

She’s barely stepped back, still very much in Tobin’s space, and Tobin can smell the tequila on her breath, mixed with some fruity chapstick. She can see the way the girl’s eyeliner is slightly smudged, the way her pupils are just the slightest bit dilated.

They have a really strict policy for these kind of situations.

But—

“Uh—” Tobin quickly glances at the door that leads to the back of the store. “Yeah.”

Technically, Tobin is not in charge. Technically, she’s only supposed to work on her new designs, clean the floor and then close the parlor at midnight. But Pinoe is in the backroom, checking supplies, and Kelley already left an hour ago, and there’s a _really _pretty girl standing right in front of her, so for now—

“Lucky me,” the girl says, with a smile that stirs something unexpectedly hot and low in Tobin’s stomach—she can feel her face heat up even more. The girl smiles wider at the sight, then says, “I’d like to get a tattoo.”

“She doesn’t,” her friend, the one with the intimidating attitude, cuts in quickly. “She’s just drunk and bitter about her break up, and she’s been making bad decisions for the entire night already—”

“_Alex_—”

“What? It’s true!”

“She’s right, Press.” Another one steps forward, her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. She wraps her arm around her friend’s waist and adds, “Just because Sacha keeps fucking with your feelings, doesn’t mean we’re going to let you get her initials tattooed on your ass—”

Tobin blinks hard.

There’s a lot to unpack there.

“Shut up, Sonny. I wasn’t even going to do that.”

“Convincing, Press.”

Tobin runs a hand over the back of her neck, looking between them, not really sure how to deal with this. They’re all so fast and in her face and Tobin’s customer service skills are mediocre on the best of days, but still, the least she can do is try to—

“What’s your name?” the pretty girl asks Tobin before she can come up with something to say.

“Oh—uh…”

“Christen, seriously, let’s get out of here before Rose and Lindsey accidentally break something our insurance doesn’t cover.” The girl Tobin thinks is called Alex glances over pretty girl’s shoulder to the front of the store where the other two girls are flipping through design folders—hardly the most dangerous of activities. But still, Alex seems to have made up her mind, especially when she turns to Tobin and says with a sigh, “Sorry about all of this. They’re freshmen.”

“It’s cool,” Tobin says quickly. “I was actually about to close, though, so…”

“See?” The blonde girl (Sonny?) says. “Place is closing, Press. Let’s go home.”

Pretty girl, who hasn’t taken her eyes off of Tobin for even one moment, steps forward, holds out her hand for Tobin to take and then says, with a small smile, “Come on, what’s your name? I’m really trying here.”

_God._

Tobin takes the outstretched hand hesitantly. For some reason, it sounds a little nervous when she says, “I’m Tobin.”

The girl smiles, doesn’t let go. “Christen.”

She’s—

God, she’s really, really pretty—

“Hi,” Tobin says, stupidly. She feels her herself get inexplicably flustered at the way Christen’s smile widens just a little bit more.

Then, to make things worse, Christen steps closer and says, “Will you give me a tattoo?”

Alex throws her hands up. “Okay, I give up. Whatever, Pressy. Just because she’s hot and vaguely your type—”

She turns around, mumbles something that Tobin can’t hear and walks over to the other two girls.

“Not vaguely,” Sonny says, to no one in particular, also turning around to walk over to the rest, but not before adding, “She’s full on Pressy’s type.”

Tobin feels the tips of her ears go red.

“I—” she mumbles, looking back at Christen. “I mean—what did you have in mind?”

Pinoe is going to murder her.

Christen bites down on her bottom lip. “I don’t know, surprise me.” 

Tobin laughs, just a little bit. “Thing with tattoos is they’re kind of permanent. I don’t know if you should trust me that blindly.”

Christen arches her eyebrow. “Why not? You look like you’re good with your hands.”

Tobin nearly chokes.

_Jesus. Okay. _

She takes a deep breath, glancing at the clock. “I’m not sure—”

“Please?” Christen says. “Just something small.”

Pinoe is _really _going to murder her.

It’s not even the ‘no drunk customers’ policy.

It’s the fact that the store is about to close and Tobin hasn’t cleaned the floor yet and there are five intoxicated college students in the parlor, and just because one of them is the most beautiful girl Tobin’s ever seen—

“Where would you like it?” Tobin says, her voice just a little bit hoarse. She coughs quickly, trying to play it off. “The tattoo, I mean.”

Christen’s eyes light up.

“I don’t know, somewhere a little bit hidden,” she says. “Maybe on my ribs—”

She plays with the hem of her shirt, like she’s going to pull it up, and Tobin’s gaze flicks up to Christen’s eyes so quickly that she nearly breaks her neck. “Oh, that’s—uh, you don’t have to show me—”

There’s a smirk playing on Christen’s lips that somehow makes everything worse.

“Or, maybe—” she says, fingers on the button of her jeans, in a teasing sort of way that makes Tobin’s whole body tense up. “—somewhere even more hidden.” She pops the button open and Tobin is going to get a heart attack — like, a full on _heart attack_, right here in the fucking tattoo parlor during her Friday night shift. “Maybe…” Christen drags the zipper down, pulls the fabric of her jeans to the side and points at the inside of her hip. “…_here_.”

Despite her better judgement, Tobin glances down, just for a second, just long enough to catch a hint of black lace panties, and—

She’s going to_ die._

Pinoe is going to kill her, but worse—

This girl who stepped into the parlor not even five minutes ago, is going to be the death of her first.

“Christen,” she says, and Christen’s eyes go just the slightest bit wider at the way Tobin says her name. “I… I really want to help you, but I’m—” She clears her throat again, trying to keep it together. “I’m not allowed to give you a tattoo when you’re drunk.”

Christen pouts a little bit. “I’m not that drunk,” she mumbles.

Tobin swallows hard.

She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can say it, someone interrupts.

“Oh my god, _Press_.” Sonny is already marching back to grab a hold of Christen’s arm. “At least _try _to keep your clothes on, for fuck’s sake—can’t leave you alone for even a second.”

Just like that, everything suddenly moves fast.

The rest of the girls seem to come to some sort of collective agreement that it’s time to leave. One of the two in the back—Rose or Lindsey, Tobin isn’t sure—hooks her arm through Christen’s, while Alex is shaking her head and pushing all of them towards the door.

“Sorry,” she calls over her shoulder. “We’re really leaving now, promise.”

Christen, turning back to Tobin, says, “See you around?”

And Tobin, who is going to be dead really soon, hears herself say, “Come back in the morning?” 

Before Christen has time to reply, the door has already closed.

:::

Despite being the only person who actually got a decent night’s sleep, Kelley is grumpy the next morning. Thankfully, because it’s a Saturday, there aren’t many customers.

Tobin gives in and makes Kelley coffee the way she likes it, with too much sugar and too much milk, and by the time it’s 12, her mood has lightened significantly.

Unfortunately, that also means she’s suddenly more observant.

“Why do you keep glancing at the door?”

“Hm?” Tobin pretends she doesn’t hear it.

“The door,” Kelley says. “Are you waiting for someone or something?”

Tobin can feel her face go a little bit red. “No,” she says, trying to play it cool.

Kelley’s eyes narrow.

“What is happening here?” she says after a second. “You look flustered.”

_Ugh._

Sometimes Tobin really hates Kelley—hates the fact that Kelley has known her since they were fourteen years old; that she has seen every awkward crush that Tobin’s ever had from up close.

“Oh my god,” Kelley says, eyes going wide. “Did something happen last night? You look guilty as fuck.”

“What—” Tobin sputters. “No, no, nothing happened. Nothing. Just—”

Kelley jumps onto it instantly. “Tell me! Did you sleep with someone? Did you finally bring an end to your endless dry spell—”

“Fuck off,” Tobin snaps, blushing even harder. “_Kelley_—come on.”

She glances around the parlor as if they could be overheard, but they’re the only people in the shop.

Kelley smirks. “Tobin…”

“It was just a girl, okay—” Tobin exhales hard. “Just some girl who came into the shop, like, a little bit after you left. Close to midnight. But nothing—it wasn’t…” She runs a hand through her hair. “She was just—” _Stunning_. “—pretty.”

Kelley looks like it’s suddenly her birthday.

“Some girl…” she says slowly, grinning hard. “That’s why you’re being so weird? Because a pretty girl came into the parlor last night?”

“No—I’m not—”

“Did you give her a tattoo?”

Tobin shakes her head. “She was drunk,” she says, licking her bottom lip. “She was with, like, five of her friends, and I didn’t—I couldn’t… well, she wanted me to, but store policy and all that. Besides, I didn’t want to overstep.” Kelley gives Tobin a look; she can feel her cheeks heat up even more. “Anyway,” she quickly adds. “I told her to come back in the morning?”

It sounds uncertain, like a question.

Kelley laughs. “Okay, now it makes sense.”

“What?”

“That you can’t keep your eyes off the door.”

Tobin groans in frustration. “I’m not. I’m not even thinking about it.”

“Oh, Toby…” Kelley swings her arm over Tobin’s shoulder. Tobin tries to shrug her off, annoyed by the nickname. “We all know that pretty girls are your weakness. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

She tries to push Kelley off. “I hate you.”

Kelley smirks. “I’m literally your only friend.”

With a bit of a struggle, Tobin manages to free herself from Kelley’s grip. She accidentally glances at the door again, before realizing her mistake as Kelley’s expression turns smug.

_Stop it, _she tells herself, _get it out of your head_.

Christen is not going to come back.

Rationally, Tobin knows that.

“What about the girls she was with?” Kelley says, clearly eager to keep the conversation going. “Any of them my type?”

“If by type you mean immature and reckless, then yes—all of them,” Tobin replies, just the slightest bit sharp, because she’s still annoyed.

Kelley grins. “Damn it, why do I always miss out on all the fun?”

“You always _ruin_ all the fun.”

“Remind me, when’s the last time you got laid?”

Tobin flips Kelley off, before accidentally making the mistake of glancing at the door, again.

Kelley smacks a hand against the back of her head, and Tobin groans.

:::

Christen doesn’t show up.

Saturday passes quietly. Tobin has four appointments scheduled and completes them all successfully; two brothers who want matching crosses on their biceps; a late afternoon routine appointment for Ashlyn’s tattoo sleeve; and, finally, a young girl whose flower pattern Tobin has been designing for weeks, who ends up loving the result so much that she nearly cries.

Sunday, her and Kelley both have the day off, which means they hang around the apartment for most of the morning, before Kelley takes off to go to the gym and Tobin tries to finish some of her designing assignments for her classes this week.

Her next shift is only Wednesday night.

She should feel relaxed and happy that she’s finally has some time to catch up on her school week.

Instead, she’s distracted.

Crystal is the one to point it out on Monday.

“What is up with all the green?” she asks, glancing over Tobin’s shoulder and into her sketchbook. “You never really work that much with green.”

Tobin feels caught. “Uh,” she mumbles. “Just trying to draw the right, uh, eye color.”

She doesn’t admit that it’s _Christen’s—_that she’s been trying to recreate the exact shade of grayish green that has been on her mind for three days already. 

It’s so stupid.

She barely even talked to the girl. All she knows is her name and what she looks like when she’s tipsy.

Crystal smirks a little bit. “Is this going to be like that time in freshman year when you got a crush on that girl who was really into astrology and all of sudden all your designs had stars signs in them?”

Tobin stares blankly.

Why is it that everyone can see through her this easily?

“No,” she says.

Crystal just laughs.

Tobin tells herself to get it out of her head. It’s getting ridiculous. She’s got mid-term assignments to focus on, portfolios to complete.

Just as she’s closing her drawing pad, ready to put the green away, her phone buzzes in her pocket.

Kelley’s name lights up on the screen.

_pretty sure ur girlfriend was just in the shop._

:::

“I’ve already told you everything there is to say!” Kelley exclaims. “She came in, looking effortlessly beautiful, like a true goddess, really—like, damn, you weren’t exaggerating when you said she was pretty, Tobes. Way too pretty for you, I would say.”

Tobin exhales hard. “Continue.”

Kelley rolls her eyes. “Fine, one more time then. She came in. She’s like ‘I’m looking for someone’. So I thought, obviously she’s looking for me. So I was like ‘I’ll do anything for you, you beautiful angel’—” Tobin has to try everything within her power not to smack Kelley. “Anyway, then she was like, ‘the girl who works the Friday night shift, is she here’—and all of a sudden it clicks, and I’m like ‘_oh, you’re Tobin’s girl_’—”

“Please tell me you didn’t say any of that, I’m begging you.”

Kelley smirks. “Fine, I won’t say that I said that.” Tobin groans. “Anyway, I actually did you a favor.”

“How?” Tobin knows she sounds desperate. “What? What did you do?”

Kelley takes a bite of her slice of pizza. “Told her when your next shift is.”

Tobin is too stunned to speak.

“You know,” Kelley says. “This is the part where you are supposed to say thank you.”

Tobin sighs hard. “I hate you.”

She doesn’t.

Not really.

Kelley grins like she knows.

:::

Of course, Christen only walks in when it’s close to midnight.

All evening, Tobin has been nervous. Even Pinoe has picked up on it. She’s downgraded Tobin to working the register and checking supplies, because “you’re not allowed to be near any customers when you’re this stressed out”.

The later it gets, the more Tobin gives up on the idea that Christen is going to stop by.

It’s about eleven minutes until closing time, when Tobin drops herself into one of the chairs in the waiting area, drawing pad propped up against her knee. It’s the only thing that can really make her focus—drawing, sketching, getting lost in the colors and the paper and the lines.

She’s so caught up in fine-lining the outer edges of a design she’s been working on for a few days already that she doesn’t notice the door open, doesn’t realize that someone’s entered the shop until Christen says, “You’re here.”

Tobin shoots up out of her chair. “Hi,” she says, “Hey—you’re—_hi_.”

Christen smiles. “Hi.” She runs a hand up the side of your neck, then rambles, “I didn’t know if you’d be in or not. Your friend, the one who worked here yesterday, she said you would be, but I couldn’t really tell if she was just messing with me, or—”

Tobin is too busy noticing how different Christen looks from Friday night. Her hair is up in a really curly ponytail, her smile a little bit more shy. She’s dressed in sports clothes; black mesh shorts and a tight Nike sweater. Tobin’s breath catches when she notices the shin guards, as well as the pair of soccer cleats that are tied to Christen’s backpack.

She’s staring so hard that she’s late with her response.

“Oh, yeah, that’s Kelley,” she says, when she finally realizes she should speak. “Yeah, she’s—she’s something else.”

Christen takes the slightest step closer. She nods at the drawing pad behind Tobin. “I’m not bothering you, am I? I can leave if you—”

“_No_.” Tobin can feel her cheeks heat up. She quickly runs a hand through her hair, “No, I’m—you’re fine. I… I’m supposed to close soon, but—” _Get it together_, she tells herself. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Apparently, it’s the right thing to say.

Christen’s cheeks go just the slightest bit red. “Right back at you,” she says, flicking her eyes up to look directly at Tobin, and Tobin’s heart nearly gives out. Before she can say anything else, Christen adds, “Sorry I look like this. Practice ran late.”

Tobin smiles a little bit. “You play soccer?”

She tries not to sound _too _fond, but Christen must hear it because her face lights up and she says, “Yeah, I’m captain this year, actually.” As soon as she said it, she adds, “Sorry, I’m—I should first…” She trails off, just for a moment, before taking a breath. “I’m really sorry about Friday night.”

Tobin can feel her eyes go wide. “What? No, you don’t have to—”

“No, I do,” Christen says. “I was _so _drunk—I… I don’t even know why I got so drunk, I’m not usually like that, I swear. I just—there was a lot going on and…”

“Bad break-up?”

Tobin doesn’t mean to say it, but the words leave her mouth before she can take them back.

Christen looks at her a little searchingly. Then, she says, “Yeah.”

Tobin fights the urge to look away from Christen’s pretty eyes, when she admits, sort of softly, “I get it.”

Christen’s expression lightens a little bit at that. “Anyway,” she says. “I wanted to come by sooner, but I felt so embarrassed. Alex—my friend Alex, she was there too—she was like, _Christen, you can never show your face in that place again. _Said this whole thing about how I was basically way too touchy and flirty and—” Christen coughs and Tobin feels her face heat up as Christen quickly adds, “But then my other friend, Sonnett—they’re both on the team with me—she was like _Get over yourself, Press, woman up and just go over there_, so now I’m—now I’m…” She looks at Tobin’s face. “Well, anyway, I’m sorry about Friday.”

Tobin swallows hard.

It’s such a difference from the last time they’re spoke; Christen rambling nervously instead of basically undressing herself.

The annoying thing is that Tobin thought she had a thing for flirty, touchy Christen—but this is somehow worse.

She feels like she’s going to pass out.

She tries for a smile instead. “Don’t worry about it, really. I liked you on Friday.” _Fuck. _“I mean—I liked seeing you on Friday, and I like seeing you now. You don’t have to apologize, that’s what I mean. You’re—Friday was nice. And this—this is nice, too.”

God, she’s such an idiot.

It’s almost like she can see Kelley shaking her head in disappointment at Tobin’s inept social skills.

Thankfully, Christen doesn’t seem to mind much.

“Good,” she says, and then she says, “I liked you on Friday too.”

Tobin pushes her hands in the pockets of her jeans, trying to play it cool when she says, “So, you still want that tattoo?”

Christen laughs. “Oh, no. I don’t—I don’t know what I was thinking really.”

“You don’t like tattoos?”

Christen studies her. Maybe Tobin is imagining it, but it sounds like Christen’s voice is just the slightest bit teasing when she says, “I didn’t say that.”

Tobin bites down on her bottom lip.

She’s about to reply when the door to the backroom suddenly opens and Pinoe walks into the parlor. “Tobes, did you close already? I am very ready to go home and—_oh_.”

Pinoe catches sight of Christen.

She glances between Tobin and Christen with a slight frown on her face, and then suddenly, her eyes go wide. “Is this the girl that Kelley was talking about? The one who came in on Friday night and—”

Tobin is going to _murder _Kelley.

“I cleaned the floor an hour ago!” she says, talking over Pinoe as loudly as she can. “Register is already closed, we can leave whenever you want!”

Pinoe smirks, then extends her hand to Christen. “Megan Rapinoe, owner of this little business.”

Christen seems unfazed. “Christen,” she says with a smile, shaking Pinoe’s hand.

Pinoe looks Christen up and down, and then—because apparently every single one of her colleagues is out here trying to make life a living hell for Tobin—she says, “Oh, you play soccer? Tobin plays too.”

Christen’s eyes go wide. She looks over at Tobin. “Really? You didn’t say that!”

Tobin’s face is red. “I don’t—I don’t play anymore,” she mumbles, at the same time that Pinoe says, “She’s really good.”

“I’m not!” Tobin hurries to say, because Christen’s looking at her in a way that is sending a full shiver down her spine.

Christen only smiles.

Tobin quickly busies herself with closing. She flicks the lights off, pulls her leather jacket on and searches for the keys in her pocket. She holds the door open so that Christen and Pinoe can step out of the parlor.

As she turns the lock, Pinoe says, “Tobes, remind me, when is your next shift again?”

Tobin frowns. “It’s Friday—it’s literally been Fridays, Saturdays and Wednesdays for, like, three months.”

“Great.” She misses the smile on Pinoe’s face. “And what time do you start again on Friday? Like 6?”

“5.30,” Tobin says, frowning even deeper. “What are you—”

Pinoe smirks. “See you on Friday, then. Nice to meet you, Christen.”

She takes off before Tobin can say anything else, leaving them standing in front of the shop. It only clicks, when Christen says, “Friday, huh?”

Tobin can feel herself blush hard. “Yeah, I—uh—I have class during the week, so weekends and Wednesday evening it is.”

“Class?” Christen says.

“I’m majoring in design,” Tobin mumbles.

Christen grins, pushes her hands in the pocket of her sweater as she says, casually, “Figured you were good with your hands.” Before Tobin can respond, she’s walking backwards, giving Tobin this cute little wave. “See you around?”

Tobin’s heart speeds up. She nods, and then, because she can’t let Kelley and Pinoe do _all _her work for her, she says, “Friday, maybe?”

Christen just smiles.

:::

The one thing that Tobin forgot about Friday night shifts, is that she shares them with Kelley.

She’s just finished with a client in one of the backrooms when she hears laughter coming from the front of the parlor. Wiping her hands on a towel, she feels her heart speed up with anticipation, although she doesn’t really know why. There’s no reason to assume that just because she mentioned that she works on Fridays, that Christen would—

But when she makes her way to the front, she finds Christen leaning against the counter, laughing at something, with Kelley looking very smug and proud of herself right next to her.

_Oh god._

This is the worst.

“—so obviously I had to come in and save the day,” Kelley says.

Christen laughs harder.

“Hi,” Tobin breathes out.

Christen whips around impressively fast—though Tobin should probably not be _that _impressed because Christen plays soccer after all. “Oh, hi.”

“Hey Tobes,” Kelley says, “Found your favorite customer.” Before Tobin can slap her, she turns back to Christen. “You know, for someone who’s already walked in and out of here, like, three times, you have surprising few tattoos on you.”

Christen grins, glances at Tobin when she says, “Maybe I have tattoos where you can’t see them.”

Tobin sputters a little bit, trying to get _that _out of her head as soon as possible.

Kelley laughs like she knows.

“You know, Christen,” she says—and her tone indicates that Tobin might actually genuinely have to strangle her these days. “I’m sure Tobin would love to talk to you some more about that.”

“Oh, you think?” Christen shoots back easily.

Kelley smirks, then glances down at her wrist which very clearly does not have a watch on it. “Look at the time! My shift is over. Better head home.”

It’s not even ten. There’s about an hour until Kelley’s shift is over but for once Tobin’s not about to complain about Kelley’s lenient attitude towards shift times.

She looks at Christen instead. She’s dressed so casually gorgeous that Tobin almost hates it a little bit—black jeans, ankle boots, and a simple white t-shirt that shouldn’t look this good, but does.

“No practice today?” Tobin asks.

“No.” Christen shakes her head. “I’m supposed to meet the team for drinks in a bit, though.”

That makes Tobin grin. “Tequila?”

Christen blushes. “No, no—nothing crazy tonight. We have to teach a soccer clinic tomorrow.” At Tobin’s raised eyebrows, she adds, “It’s this thing we do sometimes with local high school students.” Her eyes go wide. “Oh, you should come! If you want to.”

Tobin’s whole body goes warm. She knows she’s smiling like an idiot, and she’s already nodding, but then she remembers. “I have to work all day tomorrow…”

“Oh.” Christen’s face falls for a second, but then she bites her lip and says, “Well, usually, after clinics, we play pickup games. Like, at night. So if you… if you’d want to come to that instead?” She gives Tobin the softest smile and Tobin can feel her heart speed up. “It’s just the team and whoever else decides to join in for the night. It’s really casual—” Christen rambles on. “Like, not a big deal or anything, but it would be great if you could be there.” Her eyes linger on Tobin’s just a second too long, before Christen suddenly seems to remember that Kelley is still there, and she quickly adds, “Both of you, I mean.”

Kelley shrugs her jacket on. “A soccer pickup game?” She smirks. “How could we even say no to that? I’ll have you know I’m excellent at soccer.”

Christen laughs while Tobin groans.

“She’s average,” she says, which makes Christen smile even wider at her. “She’s average at best.”

“_You’re_ average,” Kelley fires back.

“Great comeback.”

“Toby…” Kelley smirks in that dangerous teasing way that instantly makes the back of Tobin’s neck go hot. “Let’s not do this in front of your girlfriend, shall we?”

Tobin wants to smack her.

She’s instantly flustered, forcing her blush down as much as she can and trying to come up with something to say, while avoiding Christen’s eyes on her.

Kelley just wiggles her eyebrows, making her way over to the door. “Text me the location tomorrow, Chris! We’ll be there!”

She grabs her backpack from the floor and exits the shop before Tobin can say anything.

Then something crosses her mind. “Wait, you have Kelley’s number?”

Christen laughs. “She put it in my phone before you came in.” Her smile is soft as she turns to lean against the register, a little bit more in Tobin’s space. “The two of you go way back, I heard?”

Tobin feels a bit of the tension leave her body. She nods. “We played for the same youth teams, actually.”

In the bright store lights, Christen’s eyes are really very green. It’s almost a little too distracting.

“Tell me about it?” Christen says.

Tobin blinks hard, willing herself to stop getting lost in her own thoughts. She runs a hand through her hair, then glances at the clock with a bit of a grin. “About Kelley? How long do you have?”

:::

Somehow, they end up on the leather sofa that is usually reserved for waiting customers—knees brushing, between the open tattoo design folders and Tobin’s sketches that she’d forgot to put away properly earlier.

Tobin tries not to notice how close they’re sitting.

Christen’s voice is soft and her smiles are sweet and her questions are good—and somehow, Tobin talks about soccer camp and growing up and all these other things that people usually can never drag out of her.

In turn, Christen tells her about California; about practicing day and night, about kicking a ball around on the beach instead of learning how to surf like the other kids.

Tobin laughs. “That can’t be true.”

“What?” Christen’s laughing too, her voice just the slightest bit self-conscious.

“You never even tried surfing?” Tobin shakes her head in disbelief. “That’s unbelievable.” She teasingly nudges Christen’s knee. “Now I’ll have to teach you.”

Christen’s eyes go wide. “You know how to surf?”

Tobin nods. “A little bit.”

Christen bites down on her bottom lip, and for just a second, her gaze drops to Tobin’s body, almost like she—

Like she’s imagining—

It makes Tobin’s skin hot all over.

Christen’s gaze moves up again just as she says, “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Tobin’s breathing goes short.

“Yeah?” she says.

And then—

Because Christen is looking at her mouth, and because she’s panicking just a little bit, and because she really _is _a fucking idiot, she adds, “Kelley surfs, too.”

“Oh.” Christen’s pulls back immediately, blinks hard. “Oh, uh—yeah, okay.” Her eyes narrow slightly. “Wait, you and Kelley—are you, uh… you’re not—”

Before she can finish her sentence, a hard buzzing sound from the pocket of Christen’s jacket interrupts them, and Christen’s eyes go wide. “Fuck, I forgot—”

Drinks.

Tobin remembers instantly.

She was going out for drinks.

Christen is already sliding her thumb over the screen of her phone, holding it up to her ear as she says, “I’m _so _sorry—no, I’m on my way, I’ll be there in, like, ten minutes—” She falls quiet for a moment as the person on the other side of the line speaks, before glancing over at Tobin, blushing hard. “No, Son—that’s not—don’t even_—no, don’t tell Alex._” She makes a frustrated little sound that goes straight to Tobin’s heart, before dropping her phone, and sighing as she cuts the connection. “I’m so sorry, I—”

“You need to go,” Tobin offers, before Christen can finish her sentence. “I know.”

She forces her smile, tries not to sound too disappointed.

Christen’s eyes are on hers for a lingering moment longer, and it’s almost like she wants to say something. But then she seems to decide against it. Instead, she gives Tobin another smile. “See you tomorrow, then?”

Tobin is nodding before she can stop herself—and then, because she has to do _something _to save her screw up from earlier, she tries to sound as confident as she can when she says, “If you promise to teach me some college soccer tricks, I’ll take you surfing some time.”

Christen bites down on her lip, her eyes so beautiful that Tobin wants to draw them, wants to keep Christen on this couch forever.

“Deal.”

:::

“You should feel lucky that I’m here. Now you don’t have to depend on your own inept flirting skills all night.”

“I swear, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to throw my cleats in your face.”

“But then who would help you get laid?”

“_Kelley, fuck off_!”

Tobin pushes Kelley so hard that she nearly loses her balance. Kelley just laughs, jogs far enough until she’s out of Tobin’s reach, and then says, “Your girl is looking at us.”

Tobin instantly snaps out of it, already forgetting about Kelley’s stupid teasing, as she looks up at the field and finds Christen waving at them from the sidelines. There’s a rush of heat through her body, and she straightens her shoulders just a little bit, pushes a bit more energy into her step as she follows Kelley across the parking lot and onto the field.

“You made it,” Christen says with a smile, before hugging Kelley like they’ve been friends for years.

She steps up to Tobin next and Tobin really only has about a second to prepare herself, before Christen’s arms are around her and all she can feel is the steady warmth of Christen’s body.

“Hi,” Christen mumbles against her ear. Tobin tries to tell herself that it’s the combination of Christen’s breath against her skin and the semi-cold evening air that has her shivering, but she can barely convince herself of the lie.

Clearly, Kelley seems to agree.

From behind Christen, she wiggles her eyebrows and makes an obscene gesture that has Tobin throwing her the most murderous look.

But then Christen is pulling back and she’s smiling and standing close, her hands still on Tobin’s elbows as she says, “You ready to play?”

Tobin nods, before adding quickly, “Don’t expect too much, though. I’m really out of practice.”

Christen’s arches her eyebrow. “Well, I just spent all day playing against forty teenagers and I’m exhausted. So I guess we’re even.”

Tobin grins. “Did you have a good day?”

Christen’s whole expression softens. “Yeah,” she says. “And even better now.”

Tobin wants to say something else—wants to say many things, like how good Christen looks in her university jersey, that she was been barely able to concentrate on her work today because she was so excited to be here tonight, that Kelley is probably going to make a million stupid jokes but that Tobin doesn’t care, not really, anyway, because she’ll happily put up with Kelley for the chance to see Christen play tonight.

Thankfully, she’s saved from spilling all of these unfiltered and ridiculous thoughts by a heavy pat on the back.

“You came!” It’s the blonde girl who was in the tattoo parlor the first night—Sonnett, Tobin thinks. She grins widely. “I’ve got to say, Press’s game on the field is pretty strong, but her game_ outside_ the field is average at best, you know—” She smirks like it’s the best joke, pushing her hand to Tobin’s shoulder playfully. “So please allow me the honors of extending a warm welcome to you because the fact that she actually managed to charm you enough to get you here is impressive.”

“I’ll say most of it was my charm, actually.” Kelley steps forward, before Tobin can respond, works her way right between them, extending her hand with a grin. “Kelley O’Hara.”

Sonnett’s eyes widen just the slightest bit. But then she takes the hand, grinning back. “Your charm, huh?”

Kelley’s smile takes on the sort of competitive hint that makes Tobin narrow her eyes at the exchange.

But before either of them can say anything else, Christen steps forward. Her cheeks are red in a flushed sort of way that makes Tobin want to reach out and brush her hand over the skin. She promptly has to fight the impulse.

“How about some soccer?” Christen says.

Tobin is already nodding before she realizes it.

As if she could ever say no.

:::

Christen is good.

No, she’s not just good, she’s _really _good.

Tobin is trying to focus on herself. She’s got enough to work on; her technique is rusty, her stamina not what it used to be. She feels self-aware and a little bit out of place in this group of girls who all seem to know each other so well. It’s actually nice that Kelley is here because it allows both off them to find their rhythm a bit quicker at least, building on the familiarity between them. Soon enough, her passes are more accurate, her shots more refined. She’s trying to focus, really. But—

Christen is so good.

She’s so quick with the ball, bringing it down from the air from seemingly impossible angles, cutting it back around three defenders and kicking it in the back of the net like it’s nothing.

The first time it happens, she gives Tobin this smug little smile, barely even acknowledging it, like it was effortless. The second time, though, she glances over more deliberately, smiling a little wider. The third time, when she catches Tobin staring once again, she grins and winks—and Tobin thinks that her heart is going to give out.

That is until she runs right into someone, not looking where she’s going, knocking both of them to the ground in the process.

“Oh, fuck—” she rushes out, “Sorry—I wasn’t looking.”

“Obviously,” Alex says.

She sounds annoyed, but she’s smirking. Tobin quickly gets back on her feet, holding out her hand to Alex.

“Sorry,” she says again.

Alex rolls her eyes, grabbing Tobin’s hand. “I get it, she’s beautiful.”

Tobin promptly feels her face heat up at being caught. “Uh—” she stammers, pulling Alex to her feet.

Alex grins. “She’s showing off for you, too.”

Tobin blinks hard.

“What?” Alex adds. “Think she’s doing all that fancy footwork for us?” She brings her hands up to pull her ponytail tighter. “You’re not bad, by the way. A little distracted, clearly…” She smirks. “But not bad.”

Tobin hopes Alex will think she’s blushing because of the compliment. “Thanks.”

“You used to play a lot?”

For a second, Tobin hesitates. But then she nods.

Alex frowns a little. “Why’d you stop?”

Before Tobin can answer, there’s a hand on her arm, and then Christen’s beautiful eyes lock onto hers. “Everything okay?”

She sounds breathless in the most attractive way. Her fingers are warm on Tobin’s bare arm and she has to try and ignore the feeling that rushes through her; the impulse to lean closer into the touch, to smile at Christen, brush a sweaty strand of hair from her forehead, lean in and—

“Did Alex knock you over?” Christen says.

Alex sputters in disbelief. “Oh, of course, why not.”

“No, I wasn’t paying attention,” Tobin says. “You were—that shot on goal was…” She really can’t focus when Christen is standing so close. “It’s all good, though. I’m fine.”

Christen smiles. “We’re thinking of packing up and going out for drinks in a couple of minutes.”

Tobin grins back. “Is that an invitation?”

Christen squeezes Tobin’s arm, her smile flirty when she says, “If you still manage to score me a goal, then yes.”

:::

Kelley slide-tackles Tobin so hard to the ground that she almost misses the way her ball curves into the corner of the net—but a goal is a goal.

Tobin smirks at Christen, who grins right back. Then, she pushes Kelley hard against the ground and kicks at her legs. “This is a red card foul, O’Hara!” 

Kelley grins. “Someone had to try and knock some sense into you.”

Tobin kicks her again, but she’s laughing. “This was fun.”

“Yeah,” Kelley grins. “Now, let’s get drunk.”

:::

No one should have allowed Kelley and Sonnett to buy round after round of shots for the whole team.

That’s what Tobin thinks as she bites down in yet another slice of lime. When she turns back, Christen feels closer, leaning against the bar in front of Tobin and looking at her with a look in her eyes that makes Tobin’s whole body feel hot. She tries to play it cool. “So, tequila shots are your thing, huh?”

Christen flicks her eyes up, smiles slow and sweet, then says, “Body shots are my thing, actually.”

Tobin nearly chokes.

It feels like things are spinning a bit, the soft light of the bar and the buzz of the alcohol making it hard to focus. Although, it might actually have more to do with the fact that Christen’s been _touching _her for at least half an hour already—leaning into Tobin’s side whenever she can, linking their pinkies together, and now, sliding her fingers not so subtly down Tobin’s side, steadying herself with her thumb pressed against Tobin’s hip.

It makes Tobin lose focus every single time she tries to say something.

(makes her want to lean into the touch, to pull Christen against her, slide her arm around Christen’s waist and—)

“Did someone say body shots?” Kelley’s arm is heavy around Tobin’s neck. Tobin tries to shrug her off, but Kelley persists—drunk as fuck. “I love body shots!” She wiggles her eyebrows at Tobin. “What do you think, Toby? You and me, baby?” She leans in even more, pressing a wet kiss to Tobin’s cheek and then shout-whispers into Tobin’s ear, “_Play along! Make her jealous_!”

For fuck’s sake.

Tobin shakes her head. “Kelley, no—”

“Come on,” Kelley says. “I’m great at body shots. I love them. And _you_—” She pushes her finger against Tobin’s cheek. “You love me. So. We should do one. It’s clearly science.”

Tobin snorts. “Clearly.”

“I’ll go buy them,” Kelley says, barely even listening. “It’s my round, anyway. Sonny got the last one so I’ll just—” She gestures vaguely behind her. “You kids stay out of trouble until I’m back. Or…” She smirks. “…you know, don’t.”

Tobin shoves her away before things can get worse.

“She’s ridiculous,” she starts, turning back to Christen, “I can’t believe she—hey—” Her gaze catches on Christen’s. “You okay?”

Christen is frowning a little bit. She glances in the direction Kelley walked off in and then she says, almost hesitantly, “What’s the deal between the two of you?”

Tobin laughs at the joke, tries to lean back into Christen’s space. When Christen keeps frowning, her eyes go wide. “Wait—you think—you think we’re… me and_ Kelley?_” She’s laughing again before she can hold it back. “Oh my God, I could never!”

“But you—”

Tobin grabs a hold of Christen’s elbow. “Chris, she’s my best friend.”

Christen’s blushing now, shoves Tobin’s arm when she doesn’t stop laughing. “She was talking about body shots! And your whole dynamic is so confusing! Okay—stop laughing at me. How was I supposed to know that the two of you aren’t—that you’re not—”

Tobin could kiss her.

It’s a flash of a thought.

Tobin could just lean in and kiss her, and that would be the answer.

Instead, she says, “Chris.”

Christen looks up. “Yeah?”

“The only person in this whole place that I want to do a body shot with, is you.”

At that, Christen’s eyes go a little bit dark. “Oh?” she says, after a second, breathy in a way that surges through Tobin’s body.

Tobin nods.

Christen grins, then laces her fingers through Tobin’s, pulls her in the direction of the bar.

:::

In the end, half the team watches Christen drip lime juice onto the side of Tobin’s neck, before sprinkling the salt over it, and handing Tobin the slice of lime.

“No,” she says, when Tobin just holds it. “Put it between your teeth.” She smirks as she says it, teasing and slow, taps her own fingers against her lips before adding, “What? Never done a body shot before?”

Tobin is pretty sure her whole face is red. “No, I’m—I mean, I _have_, just—”

From the corner of her eye she catches Kelley leaning in to whisper something to Sonnett that has both of them cracking up.

“Here,” Christen says, taking the slice and placing it right between Tobin’s lips. Then, she tips Tobin’s chin a little bit to the side, shakes salt all over the wet line she just made with lime juice. She’s so up in Tobin’s space that it’s hard to breathe. “Ready?”

Tobin swallows hard—

Christen leans in, not giving Tobin a chance to reply, as she pulls Tobin in by her belt loops, licking her tongue right up the side of Tobin’s neck, slow and hot and—

_Fuck_.

Tobin’s whole body shudders.

Christen knocks back the shot like it’s nothing, looks right at Tobin, her eyes pretty and wide, and then steps forward. She brushes her mouth against Tobin’s lips, takes the lime slowly—and it’s not a kiss by any means, but _holy fuck_.

Tobin has forgotten how to breathe.

Someone whistles. Someone else says, “Get it, Pressy.”

It might be Alex. Or Rose.

Tobin doesn’t even care.

Christen laughs breezily, only a hint of red on her cheekbones, and Tobin thinks that she’s never been this into someone in her whole life.

“I’m going to get some air,” Christen says.

One of her hands is still on Tobin’s hips and it’s hot and distracting in the best way, and Tobin struggles to respond. But then Christen saves her, smiles and puts just the slightest bit of pressure on her fingers, squeezing Tobin’s hip as she says, “Come with me?”

:::

They end up in front of the tattoo parlor, which Tobin hadn’t realized was this close to the bar. She leans back against the store front, watches as Christen, who is more tipsy than she’s willing to let on, twirls around a street lantern.

When she comes to a stop, she takes a step closer to Tobin. “I’d like to get a tattoo.”

Tobin grins. “Store’s closed.”

“I know that you have a key.”

Tobin leans her head back against the window. She shakes her head. “I can’t give you a tattoo, Chris. Not when you’re drunk.”

Christen sways forward. Tobin’s breath hitches, and Christen says, close enough to Tobin’s mouth for it to jolt through Tobin’s whole body, “But I want you to.”

It’s too tempting. The prettiest girl in the whole world is right in front of her, and Tobin is already reaching for the pocket of her jacket, pulling out a pen and a hair tie in a hurry to locate her keys.

“Okay,” she says, “I’m not going to give you a tattoo, but we can go inside if you want.” She searches her other pocket, and then, with a real shock of disappointment she suddenly remembers. “Fuck—Kelley has my keys… I made her close up.”

Christen pouts a little, just for a second. But then she smiles, intertwining her fingers with Tobin’s and pulling both of them to the ground. Backs against the store window, Christen glances sideways, “Can we stay here, though? I don’t want to go back to the bar.”

Tobin nods, feeling the way the words build up the tension in the air between them, almost like it’s something of a confession.

Everything is quiet around them, just the sound of their breathing and the glow of the streetlights making Christen’s eyes seem brighter.

Tobin swallows hard, fumbles nervously with her fingers, spins the pen she’s still holding between her index and her thumb—and then, suddenly, she gets an idea.

“Hey,” she says, taking a hold of Christen’s hand again, pushing softly at the sleeve of Christen’s sweater and uncapping the pen. She smiles a little. “What kind of tattoo do you want?”

The look that Christen gives her rushes warmth all through Tobin’s chest.

Christen bites down on her bottom lip, then pushes the fabric up to her elbow and holds out the inside of her forearm to Tobin. “You’re the artist.”

Tobin grins, pulls Christen’s arm a little bit closer, then begins to draw. She starts with one of her favorite flower patterns, circling the vines in swirling lines of ink around Christen’s soft and warm wrist. She can feel Christen’s pulse against her fingers, quick and steady.

“Wow,” Christen breathes out after a minute, her voice a little throaty, close to Tobin’s ear as she leans in to look. “That’s beautiful.”

Tobin can feel herself blush. She mumbles, “It’s nothing.”

But it’s not true.

It’s not nothing.

Her heart is racing in her throat and she has to focus to not let herself get distracted by the heat of Christen’s body against her side. She’s sitting on the street in the middle of the night, drawing fake tattoos on a girl’s arm with a black pen—and somehow it’s so fucking intimate that she’s feeling overwhelmed in the best way possible.

“Here,” she says, turning Christen’s hand open and putting the pen to the corner of her wrist, just under her palm. She’s quick—just a few lines, a few small black patches. “Something really sophisticated. Just for you.”

Christen grins. “A soccer ball.”

Tobin chuckles, then pulls Christen’s wrist a bit closer to her mouth. She blows out against the skin, before she realizes what she’s doing. The second she does, she goes bright red. “Sorry,” she says, “Wanted the ink to dry faster.”

Christen is licking at her bottom lip, and maybe Tobin is imagining it, but it feels like her breathing has sped up just a little bit.

“Chris—” she starts to say, her mind already ready to ramble out another apology.

But then Christen says, “Why did you stop?”

Tobin chokes a little bit. “With—with blowing on your skin?”

“No—” Now Christen kind of coughs. “Though, that was—no, I mean—If you want to, you can do that, too. But that’s not the point, I, uh—I meant—” She’s blushing now and Tobin feels a little bit better. “I meant soccer. Why did you stop?”

“Oh—”

“I mean,” Christen rushes. “You don’t have to tell me. I just—well, you were so good tonight. And it seemed like you had so much fun. So I just wondered.”

Tobin nods.

She takes a slow breath, and then she says, “I got injured. Like, really badly.” She bites down on her bottom lip. “I don’t know—it probably sounds stupid, but I just—I had all these dreams about making it really big one day. Like, actual youth camps and the national team, and all that.” She feels silly saying it out loud, so she looks down. “Anyway, when I was seventeen, I fucked up my ankle _really _bad, and they said… Well, they said I wouldn’t ever get to play at that level. It just wasn’t in the cards anymore. And I thought—I don’t know, I’ve always been pretty _all or nothing, _you know? I felt so hurt, and I couldn’t have the one thing I wanted, so I… I kind of just abandoned it.”

Christen is quiet.

Tobin says, “It’s dumb. I know it’s dumb.”

“It’s not.”

She turns to look at Christen, and Christen repeats, “It’s not dumb. Tobin, you’re—”

She’s silent for a second, catching herself. Tobin can feel her cheeks go warm, especially when Christen looks at her, and adds, “You’re _so good_. Not just with soccer, but… But with everything. And I know we only just met, and this probably sounds crazy, but you’re really… I mean, I think you’re one of the best. You’re such a brilliant artist and you nutmegged every single person on that field tonight, including me, _twice_—” Tobin laughs, and Christen is _beautiful_. “And you’re funny and cool and… and really fucking hot. And you care too much about ridiculous things, like all of Kelley’s stupid jokes, and things like your work policy. You’re the kind of person who loves their best friend more than anything, and who refuses to give in to drunk girls who are desperately trying to get your hands on them, and I actually—”

It’s only a second.

All it takes is one second, for Tobin to tip Christen’s chin up the slightest bit, to make her stop talking mid-sentence, to close the gap between them and kiss her.

Christen’s lips are soft. She hums into Tobin’s mouth, still vaguely tastes of tequila—and it takes a moment for her to catch up with what is happening, a moment where the kiss is nothing but a soft press of their lips against each other.

But then, Christen makes a needy, throaty sort of noise, sliding her hand up to the back of Tobin’s neck as she pushes her body closer and deepens the kiss.

Tobin thinks her heart is going to give out.

She shivers under Christen’s fingertips, can’t stop the way her breath hitches against Christen’s mouth as the kiss heats up.

Christen is pushing her hands through Tobin’s hair, biting softly on Tobin’s bottom lip, before smirking, and—

_Fuck._

Tobin doesn’t even mind that the store window is hard and cold against her back—not with Christen swinging her leg over Tobin’s hips in an attempt to get them even closer to each other.

“You’re so pretty,” Tobin gasps out in the moment where Christen straddles her lap, grinning down at Tobin like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Like, really Chris, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my whole life. And that first night you were here, I couldn’t even _think _because you’re just so beautiful and amazing and—”

Christen kisses her again, shuts her up just like that.

They make out on the ground, against the front window of the place where Tobin _works_, and Tobin doesn’t think it’s going to get better than this, except at that point, she accidentally brushes her fingers up under Christen’s shirt, touching the bare skin of her back.

Christen breaks away with a soft noise.

“Fuck…” she mumbles, and then, “How close are we to your place?”

:::

The sight of Christen in Tobin’s bedroom, is enough to make Tobin lose her breath. Clearly, Christen knows it, because she smirks teasingly, playing with the hem of her shirt as she says, “Ready to see all my hidden tattoos?”

Tobin’s throat goes dry. “What tattoos?”

“Come find out.”

This time when they kiss, the tension builds much quicker than before. Tobin can feel her heart racing. She’s got her hands on Christen’s hips, but is hesitant to apply too much pressure, not sure if Christen wants to go this fast. Never mind that the hot, slow way Christen keeps moving against her, pushing her hips closer to Tobin’s, kissing her until she’s dizzy, is probably indication enough.

“Tobin…”

Hearing her name on Christen’s lips like this, low and hot, makes Tobin’s grip tighten immediately.

“Hm?”

Christen grabs Tobin’s hands, guides them up under her shirt, and then she whispers, “Get me naked.”

Tobin makes an embarrassingly throaty noise.

There’s something so _hot _about it, about the mix of assertiveness and neediness in Christen’s voice. Her fingers skim over the warm skin of Christen’s waist, loving the way she shivers just a little bit, the higher they go. She plays with underwire of Christen’s bra, teasing for just a moment—and then she touches Christen over the fabric, softly stroking around Christen’s nipple while pressing kisses to the side of Christen’s neck at the same time.

Christen bucks forward. “_Yes_.”

It’s enough encouragement. In one quick movement, Tobin pulls Christen’s t-shirt up over her head, before kissing her neck and palming at her breast a little harder.

When she leans back, she has to smile at how _kissed _Christen looks. “I don’t see any tattoos yet.”

Christen blushes, pulls on Tobin’s hand, mumbles, “I actually don’t have any.”

Tobin arches an eyebrow. “Oh? So you were just teasing me?”

Christen’s eyes meet hers. She makes Tobin watch as she hooks her fingers around the back clasp of her bra, unhooking it easily. She smirks, then drops the thing to the floor. “No more teasing.”

Tobin’s mouth parts as she exhales hard, and then Christen is already back against her, topless, kissing her hard.

After that, it doesn’t take long to get rid of their clothes. Tobin’s never been this easily turned on before, but the sight of Christen lowering herself down onto Tobin’s bed, naked and wet, almost makes her come without even being touched. Christen spreads her legs, lets Tobin get between them. She’s not shy about it at all, something that only turns Tobin on even more. She runs her fingers through Tobin’s hair, says, “You’re so hot,” and then leans back and lets Tobin kiss a long and slow line up the inside of Christen’s thigh.

Right before Tobin gets her mouth on her, Christen mumbles, “Fuck, you’re going to ruin me. I can already feel it.”

It charges through Tobin’s body, hotter than anything else.

After—

After she manages to make Christen fall apart three times in a row, Christen breathes out, “Jesus, fuck, I was right.” She pulls Tobin back up the bed, smirking as she adds, “You _are _good with your hands.”

Tobin laughs, kisses her hard, is already imagining leaving hickeys all across the side of Christen’s neck—dark red tattoos of how quickly she’s falling.

But then Christen’s hand slips between Tobin’s thighs, and she can’t feel anything else.

:::

It’s around 4 in the morning when Tobin hears the front door slam closed, briefly snapping her out of her dreams. At least Kelley made it home safe, she thinks. She barely pays any attention to the thought, just breathes in deeply, curls her body closer around Christen’s and let’s herself get pulled back into sleep.

:::

The next time she wakes up, it’s morning, and she’s alone in the bed. For one heart-stopping second, she thinks Christen has left.

But before she can panic, she gets her answer when there’s a loud bang coming from the kitchen, and someone outside of her bedroom shouts, “Press?”

There’s a second of shocked silence, and then Christen exclaims, “_Sonny_?”

Tobin’s eyes fly open.

_Oh._

:::

“Well,” Kelley smirks. “Isn’t this cozy?”

“You’re being _loud_.”

“Sorry, babe.”

“_Babe?_”

Kelley grins at Tobin. “Yes, Toby. _Babe._ A term of affection. Sometimes expressed in, or after, the throes of passion. Do I really have to teach you everything?” She hands Tobin a cup of coffee, wiggling her eyebrows. “Although, considering circumstances, not _everything_, apparently.”

Tobin blushes hard, accidentally catches Christen’s eyes. When Christen smiles softly, Tobin’s cheeks get even warmer.

Next to them, Sonnett is half dead on the couch, clearly struggling through an intense hangover.

Kelley is looking like she’s having a field day.

“Who wants breakfast?” she says with a smirk. “Hey, can you believe all of us got laid at the same time? I’ll make waffles.”

One day, Tobin is going to kill Kelley. Really.

:::

Christen has soccer practice during Tobin’s Wednesday shifts. Tobin knows this. She’s not looking at the door every ten minutes, because Christen has soccer practice, and Tobin _knows_. She knows better than to look at the door.

“Stop looking at the door.”

Pinoe shoves Tobin’s arm.

“I’m not,” Tobin says weakly.

Pinoe grins. “Waiting for your girl to stop by?”

Tobin nearly knocks her hip against the counter. She runs a nervous hand through her hair, not looking at Pinoe as she mumbles, “She’s not my girl…”

“I’m not?”

Tobin’s gaze snaps up.

Christen is standing in the doorway, still dressed in her practice kit.

“I’ll be in the backroom,” Pinoe says.

Tobin barely hears it.

She can only look at Christen.

Christen, who has got her hair straightened and pulled back tight in a high ponytail. Christen, who is smiling at Tobin like it’s totally normal for her to be here, no matter that it’s close to midnight already. Christen, who looks so good in Tobin’s bed, naked and beautiful, which is something Tobin should really _not _be thinking about right now, but—

“Hi,” Tobin says, fighting her blush.

Christen’s entire expression softens. “_Hi_.”

She steps closer, leaning in. “I’m not your girl?”

Tobin’s neck goes hot. “Uh,” she stammers. “I mean—I was just saying that to get Pinoe off my back, you know how she—I mean, I’m not saying that you _are_. Or… or that you’re _not_. I mean, if you… If you want to, you could be, uh—you could be my—”

Christen grabs her shirt, pulls her in, and kisses her.

It’s soft and hot, and it makes Tobin’s stomach flip hard.

“Why do you think I’m even here?” Christen mumbles against her lips.

Tobin leans back. “To get a tattoo?”

Christen laughs.

“Sure,” she says. “It’s got nothing to do with the hot girl I’ve been trying to date ever since I first walked in here.”

It makes Tobin smile so hard she has to bite down on her bottom lip to not look like an idiot.

“Yeah?” she says stupidly.

Christen nods. “Yeah.”

Tobin says, “Do you want to go out with me, then?”

Christen smiles even wider. “Hm… Let me think about it.” She grins, wrapping her arms around Tobin’s neck. “Only if you’ll give me a tattoo.”

Tobin smiles, feels her whole body hum with happiness as she kisses Christen slowly, and then whispers, right against her lips, “Anything you want, babe.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this! Let me know what you think in the comments :)
> 
> (I'm still working on my other stuff, fear not!)


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